


convince me

by ShippingEve



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Bottom Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, Episode Related, F/F, Praise Kink, Smut, between 2x05 and 2x06, sexiest job interview you've ever seen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23178562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingEve/pseuds/ShippingEve
Summary: Carolyn demands high standards from her assets. Before the Peel mission, she comes to check that Villanelle is up to snuff.
Relationships: Carolyn Martens/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 11
Kudos: 73





	convince me

**Author's Note:**

> for a special someone

Villanelle is practicing piano in her underwear when she hears a knock at the door.

Villanelle leans over to grap her patterned silk robe from where it’s hung on the lid of the piano, knotting the belt as she answers the door and find her new boss standing on the other side of the threshold. 

“Carolyn,” Villanelle says, enjoying the feel of the name in her mouth. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Consider it an interview of sorts,” Carolyn says. “Shall I take off my shoes?”

Villanelle tilts her head curiously. “Interview for what?”

“Due diligence. We’re considering you for an incredibly important mission.”

Villanelle smiles. “You already offered me the job.”

“Eve offered you the job,” Carolyn says pointedly as she removed her coat. “Except, Eve is not the one who makes the decisions, much as she acts like it.”

“Alright, boss,” Villanelle says, then moves to sit down on her bed. She expects Carolyn to sit, or at least take off her jacket, but she stands stock still.

“Eve is too soft on you,” Carolyn says. “She has a blind spot when it comes to your weaknesses.”

“I have no weaknesses,” Villanelle counters.

Carolyn continues as if she didn’t hear Villanelle’s interruption. “But I have exceptionally high standards for my employees.”

Finally, finally she unbuttons her jacket, gives a discerning look to one of Villanelle’s dining room chairs, then, apparently deciding it meets her standards, hands her coat on the back and sits.

She faces towards Villanelle, crossing her legs and clasping her hands.

Villanelle swings her legs forward over the edge of her bed. “So……”

“Show me what you can do.”

Neither in words nor tone does Carolyn offer any indication of exactly what she’d like to see. 

Villanelle stands up slowly. Then glances expectantly at Carolyn. Is this the right move? She looks the same, absolutely stone-faced. Okay, time to try another movement. She takes a few steps. No reaction. She walks over to the grand piano and pulls out the bench. Still nothing. Silence must mean approval, right?

Villanelle sits at the piano and hovers her bare foot over the pedal. This piano was here when she rented the apartment, and to be perfectly honest, was one of the reasons she chose this apartment, aside from is spacious layout, sleek style, and proximity to Eve’s house. But there were other options, and the included piano was the tipping point for this rental.

She straightens the sheet music on the stand. A piece she’d found inside the piano bench; a Hungarian folk song. The paper is cracked and yellowing. She taught it to herself yesterday, and as of this morning, she was getting rather good at it. 

Fingers extended, she touches them to the ivory keys and begins to play.

Her head stays forward, hunched over the keys, craning to see the sheet music. Her fingers dance, more confident than her brain, instinctively knowing where to go despite her last piano lesson being about eight years ago.

She finishes gracefully. Allows the requisite moment of silence to follow the music. Then swings herself around to check the reaction from her audience of one.

Carolyn is in the exact same position. Crossed. Everything crossed, clasped. Tightly wound, Villanelle things. After an agonizingly long moment, she says, “Very good.”

A rush of endorphins swell through Villanelle’s bloodstream, which only intensifies as Carolyn stands and walks over. Interpreting this as a sign of interest, Villanelle faces the keyboard once again and places her hands to begin playing another piece.

But Carolyn reaches out and slams the kid over the keys with a crack. It’s only thanks to Villanelle’s excellent reflexes that her fingers aren’t crushed.

“But I did not hire you to play piano.”

Villanelle stares down at her lap.

“What did I hire you for?” 

“To be a spy?” Villanelle asks. She braces herself for a biting response, detailing how ‘spy’ is not the proper terminology.

“Yes,” Carolyn says, and that one simple word, the most basic signal of approval, brings another rush of endorphins. “To get close to a very paranoid person, and convince him you are not a threat.”

“So?” Villanelle says, trying not to betray the effect that Carolyn’s proximity is having on every organ in her body.

“Convince me.”

A shock runs down Villanelle’s spine and she feels herself growing wet. It’s so not the time, but the inconvenience of the feeling only strengthens it. And why is Carolyn leaning so close, acting so…sexy? If not to turn Villanelle on?

“Is this a test?” Villanelle asks.

“Yes, as I just explained.”

“You like to play games.” Villanelle says, turning to Carolyn. An accusation. A grasp to regain power.

“I’m partial to Parcheesi,” Carolyn muses.

“Mind games,” Villanelle clarifies. “But you see. I am very good at mind games.”

“By all means, I invite you to prove it.”

Ah, so Carolyn really wants to _play_. But she doesn’t realize who she is dealing with. They will see who loses this game of chicken, and it won’t be Villanelle. 

She stands, drawing herself up to her full height, and finds herself disconcertingly eye-to-eye with Carolyn. She wishes that she had shoes on, but she can make do.

“What’s it like being the boss?” She croons softly.

“I always have my fingers in several different pies.”

“That must be stressful.” Villanelle takes the risky advance of reaching out a hand to caress Carolyn’s chin. A move that could backfire – Carolyn is so difficult to read, after all – but Villanelle knows there’s no victory without risk.

“Not so,” Carolyn says. “I prefer a hands-on management approach.”

“You’re a control freak,” Villanelle says, with a thrilling lilt to her voice.

“Yes,” Carolyn nods, as if it were a compliment.

Villanelle is beginning to grow frustrated. Most women – most people – relent to her control easily, but Carolyn is proving rather stubborn. It won’t be easy to get her to shed her cloak of authority. 

Then, like a light going on, it occurs to her. The way to control Carolyn is to let her think she has control.

“You want me to put on a show, or what? Be your little dancing monkey?”

“I do not believe that Aaron Peel will be fooled by a dancing monkey. If that’s the best you have to offer–”

“It’s not,” Villanelle says quickly, with a nervous laugh. Time to demonstrate. Pretend the rich man is there… she hasn’t met him yet, but all rich men share much in common, and that’s the compulsion to view women as another one of their possessions.

So Villanelle strikes over to the bed and sits, lies down. Splays her body out almost like she’s dead, because every rich boy also dreams of murdering women, but her face, very much alive. “Have at it,” she says.

“It’s a start,” Carolyn says with disdain. 

“Please. He would be drooling.”

“It’s becoming more and more evident that you do not understand the premise of this mission at all,” Carolyn says, voice thin with impatience. “Your task is not to bed the local Fabio; your task is to grow close to one of the most paranoid people on the planet, and coax him to let his guard down enough to spill top-secret information.”

“So you are saying my tits won’t do the trick?” Villanelle says, sitting up and deliberately letting her robe slip open at the top so her black lace bra is visible.

“I’m saying it will take wits as well as tits,” Carolyn says. “Konstantin talked you up a great deal.”

“Really? What did he say?”

“That you were smart,” Carolyn says, and even though she’s only quoting Konstantin, the compliment brings life to Villanelle, makes her heart pick up. “That you were discreet. Efficient.”

“He’s right.”

“But he also warned me you are unpredictable. Emotional. With a tendency to go off-mission.” Carolyn says. These are qualities I do not like in my assets.”

Villanelle glowers. “He’s wrong.”

“Is he?” Carolyn muses. “I’m afraid in order for me to take your word, you’ll have to provide some evidence to the contrary.”

“I am sensational.”

“Can you follow instructions?”

Villanelle nods.

“Do exactly as I say.” Carolyn takes a step towards the bed. “Undo your robe.”

Was that supposed to be a challenge? Did she really think Villanelle would hesitate, that she is ashamed of her body? Villanelle rises, unties the drawstring and slides her robe of, falling to the ground in a silky heap. She stands proudly in her matching lingerie ensemble. “What next?”

“And the rest.”

A mild surprise that Carolyn would go this far, but again, Villanelle is not ashamed. Carolyn loves to talk about “assets”, but Villanelle knows what her own “assets” are, and her body is one of them. She unhooks her bra, dropping it on top of the robe on the floor, then slides out of her panties, adding them to the pile.

“Lie down.”

Villanelle lowers her body onto the bed, her 600-thread count bedspread heaven on her bare skin. She’s not uncomfortable, per se, but she does feel a slightly amorphous sense that she’s no longer in the driver’s seat of this interaction as much as she thought. Is she baiting Carolyn into taking control, or did Carolyn bait _her_ into baiting…?

Her brain struggles to undo that mental knot, but meanwhile, Carolyn has come right up to the edge of the bed. She looks down at Villanelle with a look that’s impossible to read – but it’s definitely not approval. Not yet. Villanelle is starting to grow impatient; how much more will she have to do for Carolyn to understand she can handle this job?

“Are you wet?”

Villanelle laughs.

Carolyn frowns. “Answer the question.”

“Very,” Villanelle says. “Does that make you feel sexy?”

“A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ will do from here on out,” Carolyn says in a clipped tone.

Villanelle buries her head further back in her pillow.

“Is that understood?”

“Yes,” Villanelle answers.

“Good. Are you ready for me to begin?”

Begin _what?_ But Villanelle suppresses the urge to ask, because she doesn’t want Carolyn to admonish her again, and also, because it’s startlingly, painfully obvious what she means – it’s only confusing because for all tha she knows she’s desirable, Villanelle really did not expect this scenario with Carolyn of all people.

So she says, “Yes.”

And then Carolyn’s touch is on her, and it’s just as commanding as every other facet of her presentation. Strong fingers slipping between Villanelle’s legs. No hesitation. And Villanelle has had her fair share of partners, but she must admit Carolyn knows what she’s doing.

“Are you an assassin?”

“Yes,” Villanelle says, without a second thought. Then, a pinching sensation as Carolyn extends her fingers, then stops abruptly. She’s answered wrong.

“One more chance. When you are with him, are you an assassin?”

“No,” Villanelle replies, and then Carolyn resumes the rhythm she had before, making Villanelle’s tension melt away.

“Are you a threat in any way?”

“No,” Villanelle says. She understands the game now, she wants to be good at it. Right answers mean more pleasure.

“What are you?” Carolyn asks with a curious upturn.

Between the open-ended question, and Carolyn increasing the speed at which she’s working inside of her, Villanelle’s mind scrambles and comes up with nothing. “Can I use other words?” she pleads.

“Yes,” Carolyn says, to herself, as if she forgot she gave that instruction. “Yes, very good. You may. Tell me.”

“I am…” Villanelle is now faced with the task figuring out what Carolyn wants to hear. What qualities does she want in her “assets”? “I am… discreet?”

“And what else?”

“I am obedient.”

“Yes, but more is required…” Carolyn says. Her face and tone calm and casual, as if disconnected from the hand that is on Villanelle. “I am not in need of a dog.”

“I am clever,” Villanelle says. “I think on my feet.”

“Good…”

“I am convincing,” Villanelle says.

“Indeed.” And Villanelle manages to open her eyes for a moment, manages to spare a glance at Carolyn, see that the corners of her mouth are the tiniest bit upturned. This makes Villanelle’s body cry out almost as much as the physical occupation Carolyn is still performing upon her.

“What else?”

“I don’t stop until the job is done.” Villanelle struggles to keep her voice from cracking as Carolyn thrusts two fingers farther inside her, curling them at the same time her thumb rubs Villanelle’s clit.

“Are you going to finish this job?”

“Yes–!”

“You may finish now.”

And Villanelle does, in spasms of pleasure that travel through her body, making her twist against the supple bedspread and dig her fingers into it, searching for someplace, anyplace, to take purchase, anything to hold onto.

Then, she’s like melted butter. A puddle of warm liquid. Weak, but exuberant.

But Carolyn is not one for lounging in the afterglow, apparently, since she walks over to the kitchen sink and washes her hands fastidiously. Three pumps of soap. Thirty seconds of washing. A rigorous dry on a dish towel.

“Leaving already?” Villanelle calls out.

“I got what I came for,” Carolyn says, as if it should be obvious.

“For me?”

“A performance like that will work well on Aaron,” she says.

With a sinking feeling, Villanelle realizes she has been played. But strangely, she’s not mad about it.

She retrieves her robe from the floor and dons it again, leaving the front open. She’s about to come up with the perfect one-liner, to remind Carolyn it was really all her idea, but Carolyn’s already at the door.

“Wait!” Villanelle calls, then bites her tongue. Trying not to sound too eager. “Did I get the job?”

“We’ll get you to one of Amber’s AA meetings tomorrow,” Carolyn says, with a casual glance. 

“You’ll call me with the details?” Villanelle says.

“Eve will handle you from here on.”

As the door clicks shut behind Carolyn, Villanelle can’t help but feel ambivalent.

Until a few minutes later, when Eve texts her, and asks how her morning was.

**Author's Note:**

> why is this the first fic for this pairing
> 
> this show has existed for nearly 3 years
> 
> what has everyone been doing all this time


End file.
